


Time Will Tell

by likeraininjuly, melfics (orphan_account)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Happy Mickey, M/M, fireman mickey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeraininjuly/pseuds/likeraininjuly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/melfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey has been trained to fight fires- but he can't seem to remember that when a certain red-headed firecrotch enters the firehouse one late Thursday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Father, Son

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies! @likeraininjuly and I decided to start a fic together about Mickey Milkovich being happy and healthy and loved, and with a little (just joshing, BIG) Gallavich reunion. So this first chapter was written by me, but the next one will be written by her! I'm writing from Mickey's perspective and she's writing from Ian's. I hope you all like it and are able to disassociate season 6 from your local fire station, at least a little bit. Because on our parts, the resentment towards fire stations is REAL, which is not cool. So from now on, just think of firefighter Mick ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mickey catches a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror. They’re blue, blue and tired. He has dark circles under his eyes. There are creases in his forehead, too. But he looks proud. He smiles, remembering a time not long ago when he believed that he’d spend the rest of his life rotting in jail. But now he is an employed adult with a family to come home to. A fake wife and an unplanned child, at that, but a family. And he loves them."

Mickey shrugs out of his uniform, sweat pooling at his skin and exhaustion working at his sore muscles. Shoving his things into his locker, he sighs and turns around- only to run into a taller blond girl.

“Mallory, hey,” he sighs, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. It’s the middle of June, so he’s wearing a tank top, and the strap of the bag is starting to wear into his bare skin.

“Hey, Mick. You headed out?” She asks, reaching for her own locker, which is by Mickey’s.

“Yeah. I’ll text you later tonight, though, okay?”

“Sure. See you, Mick.”

Mickey makes his way towards the exit, sighing as he pushes through the front door. His shift is over, and the next group of guys are making their way inside. He doesn’t say hi, doesn’t raise a hand in a wave. He just keeps walking, hoping he makes it to his car before he knocks somebody out.

It has been a rough day, and he feels like punching a wall. No, he feels like punching Michael. Michael had asked to be transferred to another station, which meant there would be some new asshole trying to take his place at work on Thursday, and Mickey was going to have to show him the ropes.

Sighing heavily, he unlocks the old Honda Accord. It’s at least ten years old, and a tiny thing, but it was a cheap buy. He shoves his things into the backseat and reaches for the ignition. Some pop song blares from the speakers almost immediately.

“Damn it, Mandy,” he curses, scrambling to lower the volume. She must have stolen the car during her lunch break. He switches it to an alternative station and blasts the air conditioning.

About to pull out of his parking space, Mickey catches a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror. They’re blue, blue and tired. He has dark circles under his eyes. There are creases in his forehead, too. But he looks proud. He smiles, remembering a time not long ago when he believed that he’d spend the rest of his life rotting in jail. But now he is an employed adult with a family to come home to. A fake wife and an unplanned child, at that, but a family. And he loves them.

 

“Hey, Yev!” He grins at the six-year-old running to greet him. The blond boy laughs a giddy laugh and jumps at his father, wrapping two skinny arms around his shoulders. Mickey has never felt shorter than when his six-year-old child is more than half as tall as he is.

“Oh, no, it is Monday!” Svetlana groans, coming into her apartment’s living room. Because of Mickey’s, well, abnormal work schedule- two twenty-four hour shifts weekly-, he gets Yevgeny every Monday night through Thursday morning.

“I forgot. Oh, well, I have plans with friends tonight anyway. How are you?” She asks, letting her hands rest at her hips.

“I’m okay,” Mickey says, smiling forcibly as he lifts Yevgeny to his shoulders. He likes to argue that his son is heavier than he looks. “I’m good now that I’ve got my baby,” he teases, poking at Yev’s side.

“Hey!” The boy giggles. “I’m not a baby, Dad.”

“And work?” Svetlana asks.

“Got a new guy starting this week. I’m supposed to work with him, and you know how I am with new people.”

“I will pray for him, then,” Svetlana says, nodding her head. “Okay, you two, go on. Have fun. I will see you Thursday, Yevgeny, love.” She walks briskly over to where Mickey is standing and reaches for Yevgeny’s head, pulling him down for a quick kiss on the cheek.

As he makes his way down the hallway, Mickey manages to keep from hitting Yevgeny’s head on the ceiling at least once or twice.

They reach the car, and Mickey lets his son crawl off of his shoulders and into the backseat.

“Can I sit up front with you, Daddy?” He whines.

“No, kid. I’m a shitty driver, you know that,” he grins into the rear view mirror, noting the pout on Yevgeny’s lips. “I told you, when you turn ten. Come on, let’s go home. I’ll make us some macaroni and cheese, and if you get your reading done, we’ll watch something on TV.”

“Can we go to the arcade tomorrow?” Yevgeny asks excitedly as he bounces in his seat.

“We sure can,” Mickey says, pulling out of the parking lot. “I’m gonna beat your ass at foosball, though, you know that, right?”

“Not if I beat your ass first!” Yevgeny cackles.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t be talking like that in front of your teachers, okay?”

“Okay, Dad. But I’m gonna beat your ass.”

Mickey chuckles and turns up the radio, wondering how an accident has turned out to be such a fucking miracle.

 

Mickey and Yevgeny spend the night snacking on macaroni and popcorn while they watch cartoons and documentaries on Netflix. Mickey eventually falls asleep, but wakes back up at midnight to see his son’s eyes still glued to the television screen.

“Alright, kiddo, it’s past your bedtime. Let’s go, pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste,” he yawns as he sits up groggily.

“Okay, but can I sleep with you tonight?” Yevgeny pleads as his father reaches for the remote to turn the TV off.

“What’s wrong with your room?”

“Nothing, I just want to sleep with you,” he shrugs. Mickey smiles a little bit and rubs at his eyes. “Yeah, sure, bud. Of course. But go get your stuff on. And go pee!” He adds as Yevgeny bounds down the hallway.

The two of them fall asleep with Yevgeny curled up against Mickey’s side and Mickey’s arm slung over his son’s body, despite the summer heat.

 

_Hey, sorry I forgot to text you last night. Fell asleep on the couch with Yev._

_No worries_ , Mallory replies. _What are you two up to today?_

_Arcade. You want to join us there in a few hours?_

_I don’t want to interrupt your father-son time._

_That’s okay, just come by about a half hour after we get there. He’ll have made plenty of friends by then and left me in the dust._

_Ha, okay then. See you at noon?_

_Sounds good._

Mickey makes sure to pour his son a decent amount of Lucky Charms before he sneaks a banana across the table.

“Dad,” Yevgeny whines.

“Hey, your mom is going to kill me if I feed you carbs all week. Come on, bananas are high in potassium.”

“What’s botassium?” Yevgeny wonders.

“Um,” Mickey says. “I don’t know. But it’s good for you, so eat up or forget about the arcade.”

Yevgeny sighs but takes a bite out of the fruit, before making a sour face and gulping up scoops of his cereal.

“Drama queen,” Mickey laughs into his own Raisin Bran.

 

“Hey there.” Mallory slides into a booth next to Mickey.

“Hey,” he sighs, sliding his phone into his pocket. “What have you been up to?”

“I actually went out last night with Svetlana,” she raises her eyebrows and reaches for Mickey’s flask, which is hidden in his jacket. “Did you know she’s crushing?”

“What?” His jaw drops.

“Yeah, some guy from work. She won’t go out with him, though. Doesn’t want it to affect Yevgeny.”

“That’s bullshit, she’s allowed to be happy,” Mickey scoffs, taking back the flask.

“That’s what I told her,” Mallory shrugs. “You should talk to her.”

“Yeah, okay. So anyway, what’s going on with you?”

“Not a whole lot, actually,” she frowns. “Work’s been keeping me exhausted. I’m ready for my time off next week, though. Mandy and I are roadtripping to Minnesota. Going to the fucking Mall of America. What about you? How’s it going with Yev?”

“Ah, it’s good. I just keep, like, having to remind myself that I’m a father. It still surprises me that Svet and I managed to raise such a fucking amazing kid.”

“Come on,” Mallory nudges him. “You’re a fucking amazing father.”

Mickey shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess so.” He looks up to see Yev playing some video game with another boy, and several others crowding and cheering them.

 

Two days pass too quickly for Mickey’s liking, and he finds himself driving to Svetlana’s apartment late Thursday morning.

“See you next week, Dad,” Yevgeny says, and links his arms around Mickey’s neck in a hug. “Maybe I’ll let you win at foosball next time.”

Mickey lets out a laugh and hugs his son harder. “We’ll see about that, kiddo. Alright, get in there,” he says, letting Yevgeny go and gesturing towards Svetlana’s open apartment door. “I love you, Yev.”

“Love you, Dad,” the six-year-old grins, taking Svetlana’s hand.

Mickey takes his time making his way into the firehouse. He just has a bad fucking feeling about today.

“Hey, Mal,” he greets the blond, opening up his locker.

“Hiya, Mick,” she smiles. “Ready for today?”

“Fuck no,” he sighs, weaving a hand through his own thick black hair.

Mallory laughs. “I’ll see you out there, man.”

Minutes later, Mickey is making his way towards the apparatus bay in order to clock in and meet up with the rest of the shift. He shrugs and fights a yawn from staying up way too late with Yevgeny last night.

“Milkovich!” Somers yells. Mickey looks up. “Got your new kid here.” He strolls quickly over to Mickey, with some lollygagger by his side. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, and walks away.

Mickey’s eyes wander from Somers' back to the new guy in front of him. Green eyes and a shock of red hair and he’s sure-

“Hey, Mickey,” Ian says.


	2. Who Says You Can't Go Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey looks at Ian and nods “We’re going in.”  
> Mickey kicks open the front door and is cautiously making his way inside. Ian is right behind him, flashlight in hand, the foggy beam guiding the way.  
> “Hello?” Mickey yells. “Can you hear me?”

Ian feels like he can’t breathe with crystal blue eyes staring at him. God, it had been so long since he’d looked into those eyes. But he can’t read them, not anymore. There is something different. Almost like Mickey is content, happy even. He has to stop himself from reaching out and just touching him. Any part of him. But even more he has to stop himself from turning around and walking straight out the door. Because Ian fucked everything up once and walking right back into Mickey’s life, even accidentally, meant he could do it all over again. Mickey is standing completely still and is just staring at him. And why isn’t Mickey saying anything? He has to say something right?

“Ian-”

And then the siren is going off and Ian remembers where they are. But for a split second they just stand there, with everyone running around them, and Ian swears it’s the longest second of his life. He quickly snaps out of it and runs to pull on the bottom half of his uniform, Mickey doing the same, both grabbing their jackets and gear to put the rest on in the truck. Ian is eyeing Mickey as they put on their masks and helmets and thinks back to two weeks ago when he loathed the idea of being transferred.

_“Gallagher, in my office. I need to talk to you.” Mcpherson says._

_Ian walks slowly behind him as he opens and closes the office door behind the redhead._

_“What is it, chief?” Ian asks, slightly concerned by the look on the older man’s face ._

_“Ian, I hate to tell you this, especially because you’re like a son to me, but you’re being transferred.”_

_“What? Sir, did-did I do something wrong? Whatever it is, I can fix it. I can do better.”_

_“Trust me, you did nothing wrong, Ian. You’re one of the best here. One of the guys over at the other station asked to be transferred and they need to bring someone over with experience so I recommended you.”_

_“It’s just..I love it here. You guys are like family. I couldn’t even think of working in another department.” Ian tries his best not to look like he isn’t devastated, but he can’t help it._

_“Look, I hate it as much as you do. I’m compromising here too. But we have extra staff here so there will be someone to fill your position. They don’t have anyone to fill the empty spot over there so someone has to be transferred. Plus you live the closest to the other department anyway.”_

_Ian sighs heavily and nods his head slowly. “Yes sir. I’ll do it. It’s been a pleasure working for you all these years.” Ian reaches out to shake the grey haired man’s hand, but instead Mcpherson pulls him into a hug._

_“You’ll have a vacation before you start. Stay in touch, Ian. This isn’t goodbye. We’ll get together for lunch when we are free, okay?”_

_“Okay.”_

_Ian turns and closes the door behind him, running a hand through bright red hair. Great. He hated the thought of having to move to another department. Ian hated change. He tried to keep things as routine as possible. He had been on his meds for years now, and was balanced out, but the thought of any drastic life changes still scared him._

The house was only a couple of miles away and they are pulling up to the scene where a crowd of neighbors are gathering on the street corner. The truck was coming to a stop as one of the firemen is shouting

“Victims inside! Fire is spreading quickly. Mickey, go in first. You, Ian is it? Follow behind.”

Ian is jolting up, following behind Mickey, and runs to back of the truck to grab an axe. They run to the front of the house where a woman is screaming, tears running down her blackened face, holding onto a boy ,about 5 years old, who is crying hysterically.

“Please! My husband and daughter are still in there!”

“Ma’am, you can’t be this close to the house. We need you out of the yard. I know this is hard. But we are going to save them, okay?” Mickey says to her.

The paramedics are running swiftly behind them to tend to the woman and child and pull them to the street.

Mickey looks at Ian and nods “We’re going in.”

Mickey kicks open the front door and is cautiously making his way inside. Ian is right behind him, flashlight in hand, the foggy beam guiding the way.

“Hello?” Mickey yells. “Can you hear me?”

They quickly run up the stairs where they see bright flickers of light where the fire is originating from, and make their way down the hall on their knees.

“Help! Please help me!” Ian hears a girl screaming, mixed with muffled coughs.

“Over here!” Ian is yelling to Mickey.

Ian yells through the door to the girl. “I need you to stand back. I have to kick the door.”

Ian draws back and is kicking the door open with force, Mickey trailing after him. The redhead sees a girl, about 10, lying on the floor curled up. He picks her up and turns around to see Mickey running down the hall to a man who is collapsed on the floor, the fire a few feet away from him.

“Take her down! Send back-up!” Mickey is screaming to Ian.

“DADDY!” The girl is crying out, followed by multiple coughs and asphyxiation.

He sees Mickey dragging the man before Ian is running down the stairs and out the door just as multiple firemen are making their way inside.

“He needs help bringing the man out. Upstairs.”

Ian reaches the street and puts the girl on a stretcher in front of the ambulance, where the EMT’s roll her in. Mickey and two other men come out the front door, Mickey and one carrying the man, the other following behind as the house is being sprayed down. Ian jerks off his mask and bends down, putting his hands on his knees and catching his breath.

“He needs oxygen now.” Mickey says to one of the EMT’s. “He’s passed out, breath is shallow.”

Mickey takes off his head gear and makes his way over to Ian, who is standing by a woman he learns is named Mallory.

“He gonna make it?” Ian asks the brunette.

“Yeah. He’ll make it.”

It’s about 1pm when Ian finally collapses into bed, completely exhausted, every muscle in his body aching. He has a blanket at the foot of his bed, but he doesn’t ever bother to use it during summer. He lays on his back, trying to make the most of the soggy breeze flowing in through the windows. The rest of Ian’s first shift at his new department was extremely busy, not to mention one of the most stressful shifts he’s ever had. They didn’t even get a two hour break in between calls and Ian barely even slept the night before due to being so nervous about his first day at a new station. How the hell is he supposed to work in such close proximity to Mickey all the time? Ian turns on his side and slides his hands under his pillow, gripping it tightly. He sighs softly and replays flashbacks in his head over and over, but he can’t close his eyes hard enough to remember what Mickey’s hands felt like against his skin, or what his lips felt like pressed against his. And he needs to remember. He hasn’t thought about Mickey in a long time, but right now that’s all he can do. He wonders if the brunette ever lies awake and thinks about their life, all those years ago, and if he ever misses it. But Ian was a hurricane, destructive and tragic. And Mickey was an ocean, rough around the edges, but calm and blissful if you dove deep enough.

When Ian wakes up it’s dark outside and his phone is buzzing. He reaches out and grabs it, squinting as his eyes adjust to the bright screen. He slides his finger across the screen and sees a text message from Autumn.

_11:05pm Iannn, where are you?_

_11:20pm Did you forget about me?_

Shit. Did he really just sleep for 10 hours straight? He sits up slowly and sends a message back.

_11:22pm Shit. I’m sorry, Autumn. I just woke up. I was exhausted._

_11:23pm It’s all good. I understand. So you still coming, sleepyhead?_

_11:23pm Yeah. Omw._

_11:30pm Better hurry. Victoria keeps pouring me shots. You gotta catch up. Just kidding, you’ll be caught up with 1 beer. LOL ;)_

Ian smirks as he pulls up to a stop light.

_11:36pm Ha ha. Stfu >:)_

Ian spots Autumn almost immediately when he enters the club. She’s small and short but has bright pink hair and is almost always wearing black. Together they stick out like a sore thumb. He makes his way over to the bar and Autumn smiles brightly when she sees him. He sits down on the stool next to her and smiles back.

“You made it.” She says, smirking.

“Hey.” He says back, facing her.

Victoria walks over and slides a beer over to the redhead.

“It’s actually vodka. Shh.” Victoria says, laughing. “Just kidding.”

“Hey, Tori-” Ian turns and sees Victoria smiling wide, twirling her fingers in her hair.

“Oh my god. You dyed your hair blue now?” Ian’s eyes are wide.

“You like it?” Victoria asks, grinning.

“We all look like some sort of mixed flavor of rainbow sherbet ice cream.”

“Aye, shut the fuck up, Ian. At least that makes us all delicious, right?” Victoria remarks, licking her lips and winking.

Autumn laughs loudly. “As delicious as they come.”

“Well at least if we all lose our jobs we can go join a circus.” Ian laughs.

“Whatever. You just wish you were as cool as us.” Autumn says and high fives Victoria.

“So how was your first shift?” Autumn asks.

Ian runs his fingers through his hair. “Stressful. You’ll never guess who works there.”

“Ryan Reynolds.” Autumn teases. “I’ve always thought he’d be a hot firefighter.”

“Mickey.” Ian says slowly.

“Whoa, Whoa. As in Mickey Milkovich, your old boyfriend, Mickey?” Autumn gasps.

“Yeah.” Ian says, taking a sip of his beer.

“No way?” Victoria says. “Oh, I wanna meet him.”

“We didn’t even get a chance to talk yet.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.” Victoria frowns before someone is yelling at her for another round. She holds her hand up before walking over to the customer.

“I need some fresh air. Wanna go outside for a smoke?” Ian looks to Autumn.

Autumn stands up and follows Ian outside. The air is hot and thick and Ian is already sweating even in his tank, but there’s a slight breeze and it feels better than inside the stuffy club.

“How’s the station?” Ian asks Autumn as he brings a cigarette up to his lips.

“Not the same without you. The new guy is shit, I’m having to train him. But it’s not so bad. We were all new at one point, ya know?” Autumn says, lighting up her own cigarette.

“Yeah.” Ian says and leans against the brick wall.

“So what was it like? Seeing Mickey.” Autumn asks cautiously.

“Like having the breath knocked right out of me. Every feeling I’ve ever had about him came flooding back. I haven’t seen him in 5 years. Shit. I thought I’d never see him again, honestly.”

“Fuck. He your first love?” Autumn says, blowing out smoke.

“Yeah.” Ian sighs.

It’s quiet for a minute. Ian watches the smoke swirl through the air.

“He seems happy..he deserves it though.” The redhead says.

“And what about you?” Autumn asks.

“I don’t know, Autumn. I mean, I’m good. You know that. I love my life, my job, my best friends,” He pokes her and she half smiles. “But I can’t help but feel empty sometimes. You know?”

“Yeah, Ian. I know.” She looks into green eyes. “You deserve to be happy too.”

“I know. And I am. I finally stopped running from my past. I actually know who I am now. It was just hard getting here. Took me a long time before I accepted being bipolar isn’t who I am, it’s just a part I have to deal with. Sometimes I still have that voice in the back of my head telling me I don’t deserve any of this. I just don’t want to fuck things up with him again. I don’t even know why I’m getting ahead of myself. I mean, I know nothing about his life now.”

“You should talk to him about it, he might surprise you.” Autumn shrugs.

“Hey, come on, let’s go dance.” She grabs Ian’s hand and starts to pull him back inside. “You’re driving me home, by the way.” She winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I loved writing this chapter so much, and can't wait to add more. Comment what you think below (;


	3. Is It Too Late to Apologize?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t want your apology,” Mickey says gruffly, reaching for the door handle again. “I wanted it six years ago, but be careful what you wish for, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient, all you lovelies.

Eyebrows furrowed, Mickey brings a glass to his teeth and downs the last of the whiskey.

Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours he and Ian had been in proximity of each other, and not a word was said between them since they arrived back at the firehouse after the call. The nerve, Mickey fumes. The fucking nerve of Ian.

He slams the glass on his bedside table and lays down on his back to gaze dazedly at the ceiling. He doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care. His body feels weighted, and his brain feels heavy in his head, gradually remembering all the things that were said between them, him and Ian. The words spin and spin until he settles on four.

_ “Yeah, Mick. I’ll wait.” _

He’s swimming in words and empty promises and broken hearts. He’s drunk. His eyes have been open for god knows how long and the chipped white paint of the ceiling is becoming too bleak for his effervescent mind. Forcing his eyes closed, he remembers Ian at the scene today, Ian in his uniform, kicking open the door, and he passes out.

 

He knows better than to answer his phone, but he does. If the goddamn thing rings another goddamn time he’s sure to send it sailing through his second story window.

His arms flail across the bedspread, searching for his phone as he groggily comes to.

“Hello?”

“Mickey? I have a work emergency. Can you take Yev?”

“Um,” Mickey groans, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there in ten.”

 

“Hey, bud,” Mickey greets his son as he scrambles into his car.

“Hi, Dad!” Yevgeny says, far too cheery for eleven o’clock in the morning. “Where are we going?”

“My- hang on, bud,” he says as his phone begins to ring.

“Mick?” Mallory asks. He grunts. “Hey, what are you up to? You want to stop by?”

“I’m with Yev,” he says. “That okay?”

“Sure, he loves Buck,” Mallory says. “That dog loves him more than he loves me.”

Mickey turns around in his seat to glance at his son, angling the phone away from his face. “You okay to hang with Buck today?”

Yevgeny’s eyes light up. “Yes!” He shouts. “Yes yes yes!”

“Alright, we’ll be over in ten,” he shrugs, and throws the car into reverse.

 

An excited bark meets Mickey’s firm knock at Mallory’s apartment door. He looks down to see his son grinning at the door, waiting for it to be opened so he can smother the little dog with kisses.

There’s some commotion inside, and Mickey hears talking, like some sort of conversation. Maybe Mallory is on the phone.

Then the door swings open, and a smiling face meets them, which fades almost immediately.

Ian and Mickey stare blankly at each other as Yev bounds after the yelping dog into the apartment.

“Hi, Yev!” Mallory cheers, making her way towards the front door. Mickey and Ian are still staring, but Mallory makes no note of that as she shoves between them.

“Mick! I invited Ian over, the new guy, remember? He called me asking about my schedule and I figured we might as well get to know each other. Come on in, man, what are you standing out there for?”

Mickey feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. The bastard he had been mourning just last night is standing there in front of him, perfectly chipper and, apparently, still employed at Mickey’s department. Obviously he doesn’t understand.

Mickey had thought Ian would get the memo that he didn’t want to see him ever again, and that some freak coincidence that had them working together should be resolved by Ian relocating to a new department. Mickey had thought it was so obvious. Had the words not been etched across his forehead? Had the lack of words said between them that night been no indication that Mickey was done with that part of his life? Had Ian stopped being able to completely read Mickey?

“Yevgeny,” Mickey says gruffly, eyes not leaving Ian’s. “Yevgeny, we’re going. Теперь,” he adds firmly.  _ Now _ . He has learned a bit of Russian over the years from Svetlana, and the language seems to be demanding no matter what is being said. So at the tone, the boy jumps up and gives the dog one final pat.

“Я иду, папа,” he huffs, coming up alongside Mallory.  _ Coming, Dad _ .

“What?” Mallory asks Mickey, plainly confused. “Why? I made you some pizza rolls, your favorite,” she frowns.

“I’ll talk to you later, Mal. Yev and I gotta go.” He takes his son’s hand and gives Ian one final glance, turning away from the taller, redder man. Ian’s face is ridden with emotion, and he lets his eyes follow Mickey even as he turns away and hurries down the hall in hand with his son.

“But папа,” Yevgeny whines.  _ Daddy _ . “Why are we leaving? I wanted to play with Buck. Did Mallory do something?”

“No, bud,” he shakes his head, reaching the stairs. “Did you see that tall man?”

“The man with fire hair?”

Mickey forces himself not to laugh. He doesn’t want to let on that any part of Ian might still amuse him. “Yeah. He did something. A long time ago.”

“What did he do?”

Mickey pauses as they reach the car. “I’ll tell you one day, bud. папа’s still hurting.”

At that, Yevgeny reaches his arms around Mickey’s waist and gives him the tightest hug he’s ever received. “I love you, Dad.”

The corners of his lips picking up just a little bit, he takes his arm and wraps it around Yevgeny’s small back. “You too, bud.”

A door slams. “Mickey,” a rough voice pants. “Wait.”

“Fuck. Come on, get in the car, Yev.”

Immediately, Yevgeny follows his father’s orders and yanks open the car door, scrambling into the backseat. Mickey is tugging at the handle of the driver’s side door when a firm hand grabs his shoulder.

“No!” Mickey slams the partially opened door shut. “No, you don’t get to do this. Get the fuck away from me, and fucking transfer.” He won’t let his eyes meet Ian’s again.

“Mickey,” Ian pleads. “Just give me one minute. I don’t want anything from you. I just want to apologize.”

“Don’t want your apology,” Mickey says gruffly, reaching for the door handle again. “I wanted it six years ago, but be careful what you wish for, right? Goodbye, Ian. Go fuck yourself.”

“I deserve that,” Ian admits. “But please, just let me-”

“Why?” Mickey shouts, wheeling back around. “So you can do it again? Manipulate me again? Fuck me over again? And for what, all so I can make you feel good about yourself for one fucking second?”

“No!” Ian cries. “I don’t want- Mickey, I just want to apologize! And then you can go on your way. And if you really want me to, I’ll transfer. I will. I promise.”

Mickey contemplates this, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes are cast downward and one foot taps nervously at the crumbling asphalt.

“Got my kid in the car,” he says finally. “Make it fast.”

Ian lets out a heavy breath. “You know, I haven’t seen Yevgeny since I saw Svetlana last. He looks a lot more like you now.”

“Get the fuck on with it.”

“Okay. I, I guess I don’t know where to begin. I was fucked up. You know that. But that’s not an excuse. You were there for me and you supported me and you were practically my fucking nurse, which I hated at the time, but I realize now I really fucking needed. So thank you.” Ian shifts awkwardly. “I really loved you. I was just in too deep to my own fucking head to be able to realize that, even three or four years into our relationship. It wasn’t until I put myself on medication that I realized that.”

“That’s all in the past, man,” Mickey swallows.

“Anyway,” Ian continues, fisting his hair. “I just wanted to say that I’m really fucking sorry for not realizing what we had, what I had, then. And I’m even more fucking sorry for all of the things that I did to you- the lying, the cheating, the breaking up with you. And the prison visit, god, I’m such a douchebag. Did I really tell you Svetlana paid me to come see you?”

“Fifty big ones. I was really worth something to you, huh?”

“Mickey, you know I was half out of it. I can’t even explain myself. But you were worth the world to me.”

_ Were _ . For some reason, the word hit Mickey like he never expected it to. He  _ was _ worth something to Ian. Past tense. It hurt like a bitch because despite the never wanting to see him again, he really wanted to see him again. He still had feelings for Ian. And maybe he always would. But he wasn’t good for him, and maybe he never would be.

“That it?” Mickey shrugs.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Mickey. For everything. I pushed you so hard and you finally gave me everything I could ask for, and I bailed. I’m sorry. That’s it,” he adds after a minute.

“Well,” Mickey huffs. “Glad I was worth something to you. Once,” he adds, and winces at his own patheticness.

“You’re still-”

“No. Don’t.”

Ian nods, eyes bright. “Would it,” he begins, carefully judging Mickey’s expression. “Would it be completely absurd for me to ask you to a cup of coffee? No strings attached,” he adds quickly. “Not a date. Just to catch up. I don’t, I don’t expect anything from you. I just miss seeing you. Even as a friend. An acquaintance. A coworker,” he smirks.

“Fucker,” Mickey breathes a laugh. He’s toeing at some more broken asphalt. Before he can stop himself, he’s saying, “Get in the car. Yev and I are headed to Starbucks.”

Ian’s face lifts. “Are you serious?” He asks, and Mickey starts to fumble his way through a mind change when Ian laughs and runs around the car to the passenger side door. “No, no taking it back. It’s a date. Well, it’s not a date. You know.”

They both climb into the car, and Yevgeny eyes Ian carefully. “Is this the bad man?” He questions Mickey.

“Yev-” Mickey starts.

“No, it’s okay, Mick. I, uh,” Ian begins. He’s turned around in his seat, taken aback by how strikingly similar Yevgeny is to his father. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, Yevgeny. I used to take care of you, when you were a baby.”

“Все в порядке, папа?” Yevgeny asks his father skeptically, still eyeing Ian.  _ Is everything okay, Dad? _

“Yeah, Yev,” Mickey says, pulling out of the parking lot. “This is Ian. We knew each other a long time ago.”

Ian nods. Yevgeny settles back into his seat.

A long, long time ago.

“How does a cookie sound, bud? We’re going for coffee.”

Yevgeny nods his head and looks out the window.

The car is silent for several moments before Mickey decides to turn on the radio. Their ears are met with a twang of country music and Ian’s smile immediately falters.

“ _ On the road again _ ,” the speakers blare. “ _ Going places that I’ve never been _ .” Ian immediately changes the station.

“What’s up?” Mickey asks, slightly concerned.

“It’s nothing,” Ian shakes his head. Mickey throws him a cautious look. “Just, uh. Just a song I drove to that day with Yevgeny.”

Mickey nods his head in understanding and doesn’t push the issue, not wanting to alarm his son. The fact that he had been kidnapped by a man he was already suspicious of probably isn’t something he should know, at least not right now.

“So,” Ian starts awkwardly. Mickey waves him off as he pulls into the Starbucks parking lot.

“We’ll talk after we order,” he says, and the three of them make their way inside the coffee shop.

 

Yevgeny sits down at a table in the corner with a hot chocolate and Mickey’s phone in hand, snooping for some games to play while the two men catch up. Ian slides in next to the boy and Mickey sits across from him.

“So,” Ian tries again, grinning and picking at the cardboard on his paper cup. “How are you?”

“Ask a broader question, why don’t you?” Mickey tries not to smile, shaking his head.

“I’m serious,” says Ian. “It’s been six years. When did you get out of jail? What’s the deal with Svet and Yev? Why did you become a fucking firefighter? Shit,” he says, realizing his foul language. “I mean, shoot. Sorry. Probably shouldn’t talk like that around him.”

“You forgetting who you’re fucking talking to?” Mickey chuckles.

“Right.”

“Um,” Mickey begins. “I don’t know. I got out about five years ago on account of lack of evidence, or some shit. Kind of got my shit together. Tried to support Svetlana, but realized I needed a fucking job to do that. Met a guy, a friend of Iggy’s, a firefighter. He introduced me to the team and I kind of… felt… you know. Belonged.” He was stuttering again, and he hated that Ian made him do that.

“You doing okay?” Ian asks.

“Um,” Mickey considers. “Yeah. I’m happy. Got a job and an ex-wife for a best friend, and this little fucker right here to keep me busy.” He snatches his phone away from Yevgeny, prompting him to mutter a curse. “You? Doing okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Ian says again. “On meds. Working. Got a good life. My best friend, Autumn, has been helping me through a lot. She kind of reminds me of you, you know. Always taking care of me. But still kind of an asshole,” he laughs.

Mickey chuckles and looks down at his coffee. “Bet you appreciate it from her,” he half-jokes.

“Mickey, I miss you,” Ian whispers suddenly. He’s leaned forward in his chair, and his grip is tight on the coffee cup. His eyes are searching Mickey’s almost desperately.

“I gotta go to the bathroom, Dad,” Yevgeny sighs and scrapes his chair back.

“Go on, bud,” he waves his kid off. Eyes returning to his lap, he chokes out a response. “Think maybe you should go.”

Ian sits there in silence for a minute, but eventually nods his head. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m- I’m sorry.” He stands up.

Mickey’s head is spinning. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he can’t think past the forceful words said between them that had him feeling so much he could have thrown up. They meant so much, but in the end, they meant nothing.

It’s too much for him to handle right now. He needs to focus on his kid and his wife and his job.

Ian pauses halfway to the door. “Do you want me to transfer?”

Mickey meets meets him with hooded eyes.

“I don’t know.”


	4. Sticks and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They laugh and joke and talk about all the shit they used to get into. Remembering happy moments, and not daring to touch darker ones. And even after everything, it feels like no time has passed at all.

Ian wakes up to his alarm clock ringing loudly from across the room. He regrets every day that he put it over on his dresser in the first place, but he knows that he would press snooze one too many times if it was directly by his bed.

“Shit.” He mumbles to himself, rubbing his eyes sleepily and walking over to turn the damn thing off. He fists his hair and walks into the bathroom, turning the knob almost as hot as it will go. He slides his boxers off and steps in, letting his mind wander as the water relaxes his body. How was he already fucking things up? Between seeing Mickey again and having to start a whole new routine, Ian’s head was a mess. Had it really been _that_ long that it made him lose any connection he had with Mickey? Had he lost the ability to be able to read him at all? No. He still knew him. He was still Mickey. And there was no one who knew him better than Ian did. That still had to be true, right?

He turns the shower off and steps out, drying off and drifting out of his thoughts. He sets his mind to work instead, pulling his jeans on and shrugging a grey t-shirt over his head. He walks into the kitchen and grabs a water bottle out of the fridge and swallows his meds, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out the door.

 

 

Mickey is sitting alone in the break room, sipping a cup of coffee when Ian walks in.

“Hey.” Ian says and sits down on the other side of the table.

“Hey.” Mickey replies and Ian gets the feeling he is slightly annoyed with him being here right now.

He pushes on anyway. “Listen, about what happened, I just want to explain myself. It’s-”

“Not the time or the place, Gallagher.” Mickey says bleakly.

“Right. You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just-I’m better now, Mickey. Okay? I just want you to know that.” He leaves it at that and gets up, walking out of the room.

 

 

Ian gets into his car and sighs. It was another long shift, and he was exhausted. But it wasn’t as bad this time. He turns the keys in the ignition only to hear a low screeching sound followed by loud knocking in the hood. He throws his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. Did this really have to fucking happen _right now_? He opens the door and walks over to the front of the car, opening the hood and latching it. He puts his hands on top of his head, trying to figure out where the sound is originating from.

“Fuck. Piece of shit.” Ian curses as he kicks the bumper aggressively right as Mickey is walking up.

“What’s wrong, man?” Mickey raises his eyebrows, his arms crossed.

“Piece of shit car won’t start. I knew I got way too good of a deal on it.” The redhead says, running a hand across his forehead, wiping away a few beads of sweat on his brow.

“I’m gonna have to call a tow truck or some shit.” He continues.

“I can give you a ride if you want.” Mickey says after a few moments, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nah, man. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Don’t wanna be an inconvenience.” Ian says, ducking into the hood and fumbling around.

“You’re not. I’m headed home anyway.”

Ian sighs and leans up, looking at Mickey now. “I said it’s fine. I’ll just get Autumn to come get me or something.” He doesn’t even care if he sounds stubborn. Yeah, he is being nice and offering him a ride, and Ian is grateful for that, he really is. But Mickey didn’t exactly seem like he was warming up to the idea of Ian walking back into his life and he sure as hell wasn’t going to get in the way if Mickey wanted to steer clear of him.

“You haven’t changed one goddamn bit, you know that? I almost forgot how stubborn you can be. Get in the fucking car, Ian.”

Ian hesitates at Mickey’s abruptness, but follows him none the less, opening the car door to sit in the passenger's side.

The first couple minutes in the car are silent, but the thoughts in Ian’s head fill the empty void. Unspoken words and heavy consciousness float through the air like cigarette smoke on a hot summer day. Where the wind doesn’t blow and pollution becomes one with the atmosphere. Thick, toxic, suffocating.

“I have changed, you know.” Ian finally speaks up.

“I really don’t want to get into this, Ian.” Mickey says, his eyes staying on the road.

The redhead scoffs at that and shakes his head. Finding it really funny how the roles have turned. At the end of their relationship, it was always Ian who never wanted to talk.

“You don’t want me back in your life? Fine. But don’t treat me like I’m still the 17 year old kid who fucked everything up and broke your heart. I’m not that person anymore, Mickey. And if you would open your eyes for one fucking second you would see that.” Ian says, hearing his voice start to raise.

He knows he is getting too emotional and letting his feelings take over. He knows it’s dangerous territory. But he doesn’t give one single fuck because if anything he is saying registers at all in Mickey’s head, it’s worth it.

Mickey turns into a parking lot and nearly slams on the brakes, throwing the car into park. He turns and looks into Ian’s eyes, blue against green.

“Aren’t you though? Because you sure as fuck haven’t shown me any indication that you’ve changed. At all!” Mickey yells.

“You haven’t even given me a chance to!” Ian spits back.

“A chance to what? To show me how good you are at lies and empty promises? To pull me into your batshit crazy life when I never fucking asked to be?” The brunette pauses after that and Ian knows Mickey regret those words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

They are hurt and angry and saying things that they don’t mean, and Ian knows Mickey didn’t mean it. But that doesn’t mean it makes it hurt any less. Whoever came up with the sticks and stones bullshit was a two-faced lying bastard, because this hurt like hell. He feels his eyes start to water and he just stares into blue eyes as a tear rolls down his cheek.

“Fuck.” Mickey mutters and pulls a hand over his face.

Ian lets out a low, condescending laugh. “I’m so glad to know that you never wanted to be with me.” He sneers. “Because I’m just a crazy fucking psycho right?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Mickey huffs and runs his fingers through dark hair.

“It’s just-fuck. You fucked me up so badly, Ian.” Mickey is fighting back tears, but finally gives in. He can’t help it. Ian just has that effect on him.

“You fucked me up so bad.” He repeats and rubs his eyes with his palms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Ian chokes out.

He’s swimming in clear blue eyes, looking at Mickey. And Ian sees the pain he caused him. Seeing him like this, it makes the redhead realize how truly sorry he is. For everything. Sure, Ian had always been sorry, maybe not at first, but when he got better. And when he did, he replayed that day over and over, wishing he could take it all back. He never really saw what it did to Mickey. Until now. And it tears him apart.

“I know.” Mickey says after a few moments.

It’s quiet the rest of the way to Ian’s apartment, besides him giving directions here and there. Mickey pulls in front of the building, parking the car. He sighs lightly and looks at the Ian, his face still slightly red from crying.

“Thanks for the ride, man.” Ian says, but hesitates before opening the door and climbing out.

“No problem.” Mickey answers.

There’s a slight tension in their voices, but it’s not the bad kind. It’s a ‘where do we stand after this?’ tension. And it’s confusing the hell out of Ian.

The redhead ducks back into the car slightly. “Do you want to come in for lunch or something?”

Mickey bites his bottom lip, thinking it over. “Yeah, yeah. That’d be nice.” He says with a small grin.

Ian sticks his key into the lock and turns around before opening the door. “Sorry about the mess, wasn’t expecting anyone over.”

“No worries.” Mickey laughs to himself as they walk inside, because apart from a few dishes in the sink and some articles of clothing on the floor, it was practically spotless. No suitcases piled on suitcases.

“You can sit down or something if you want.” Ian gestures to the small table separating the kitchen and the living room.

He walks over to the fridge and opens it, realizing he hasn’t been grocery shopping in a while. “Uh, all I have is like stuff to make sandwiches with.” Ian breathes a small laugh. “That okay?”

“Yeah, sure. What kinda meat you got?”

“Depends on what kind you’re looking for.” Ian raises his eyebrows playfully.

Mickey chuckles lowly and shakes his head. “Fucker.”

Ian laughs at that before clearing his throat. “Turkey or ham?”

“Turkey.” Mickey replies.

They laugh and joke and talk about all the shit they used to get into. Remembering happy moments, and not daring to touch darker ones. And even after everything, it feels like no time has passed at all.

And maybe that's why what happens next felt so fucking right. Because Ian leans in and kisses Mickey. The kiss is small and gentle, maybe because Ian did it out of pure reflex, falling into old habits after all this time. Or maybe because he felt like Mickey wanted it too. It didn't matter, because for a second the brunette leans in and kisses him back, pulling a hand up to the back of his neck. And after all these years there's nothing more that makes Ian Gallagher realize he is still head over heels in love with Mickey Milkovich than that. It didn't last long before Mickey pulls away, looking at him, completely shocked.

"What the fuck, Ian?!" Mickey backs away, shaking his head, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip in frustration.

"I'm sorry! I don't know why I did that." Ian's expression drops, the reality of what just happened washing over him.

"I have to go." Mickey's eyes are wide, almost like they are filled with rage. He turns away and walks toward the door.

"No. Wait! I'm sorry, Mick." Ian pulls his wrist and turns Mickey around.

"No. I can't do this." Mickey pushes his chest, it isn't hard, but enough for Ian to back away and get the point.

"And don't fucking call me that." Mickey slams the door on his way out, Ian flinches from the loud noise.

Ian sighs and pushes his hair back as he is left standing at the door of his apartment. But a smile forms at the corner of his mouth because he knows that Mickey felt exactly what he did in that moment. You can't fake that sort of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! (: Comment what you think below.


	5. Absolutely Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey doesn't know what he's thinking and Ian doesn't know what he's saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry

He refuses to acknowledge it. He refuses to sit in his car, with his foot on the gas, and worry himself silly about whatever Ian might be thinking right now. He refuses.

No, he has to go get Yevgeny.

Still, he thinks.

_ What does it mean when you’re afraid to feel absolutely grounded? _ Mickey wonders. He feels kind of like that. He’s not even thinking about Ian, but he still feels this sense of panic, and his immediate reaction is to let it alone, to let it fester, but he’s in his car now. And when he drives, he thinks.

His entire life, he’s been on the edge of his seat, riding out the ups and downs of his father’s temper, his own identity and the general environment of the South Side. He’s always been most prepared in his happiest, most contented states, awaiting the next down. It wasn’t until he started seeing Ian that he let down his guard in the slightest.

Ian was his own person. It made Mickey curious, made him want to figure out who he was. And that was good. He learned that he was a loving man, which came as a surprise to him, naturally. He learned that he was gay, and that that was okay. He was learning and he was growing in the company of Ian and that was all good and well until he forgot that he was supposed to be on the edge of his seat. Instead he was reclined and fitting himself into the grooves of it and just as he was getting comfortable he was forced to remember.

He was raped. He was forced to marry the pregnant prostitute who was forced to rape him. The love of his life was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. And those are just the highlights.

He’s afraid to feel grounded. And he’s afraid to let the same person make him feel that way again. He should be on the edge of his seat, not reclined. He shifts closer to the edge of his seat as he turns into Svetlana’s apartment building parking lot.

 

“Hey, kid,” he smiles weakly at Yevgeny as he buckles his seat belt. “Where do you feel like going today?”

“Dad, I had the best day with Mom. We ate popsicles and walked all the way to the library. I checked out seven books, and two of them are about science!”

“That’s so cool, bud!” Mickey feigns excitement. He really is proud that his son, a Milkovich, is taking interest in school, though. It never fails to make him smile because his son is the kind of kid he would have made fun of in elementary school, yet he is his favorite person.

And then Yevgeny is rambling, and Mickey is on his way home. He brakes suddenly at the next stoplight, and Yevgeny giggles as he’s thrown forward a bit in his seat.

“Sorry, bud. You okay?”

“Yeah, Dad. When can you take me to the fire station?”

Mickey glances at his son through the rear view mirror. “What?”

Yevgeny sighs dramatically. “Everybody else gets to go with their dad to work sometimes. Andrew’s dad is a cop, and he gets to ride around in a cop car!” Mickey smirks at his son’s heavy sighs and emphasis on important words like  _ Andrew _ and  _ cop _ and  _ he _ . “And Dad, your job is so much cooler than Andrew’s dad’s. Please, will you take me to the fire station? Please?”

Mickey’s eyes grow wide and he almost forgets to release his foot from the brake when the light turns green. “You think my job’s cooler than Andrew’s dad’s?” He asks.

He can hear Yevgeny rolling his eyes in the backseat. “Yeah, Dad. I mean, you fight fires. You have the coolest job ever.”

“Well, I can,” Mickey starts, fighting a smile. Is his son proud of him? “I can see if I can work something out.”

Yevgeny shouts at that and returns to making careless conversation, babbling about whatever six-year-old boys babble about. Mickey’s eyes linger in the rear view mirror, though, and his thoughts linger on pride and the fact that his son is proud of him. His  _ son _ is proud of  _ him _ . Fuck if that isn’t a good feeling.

 

“Look, Dad,” he says, leaned against Mickey’s torso. “If you hold this down-”

“Yev, where did you get that? What is that yellow thing?” Mickey’s squinting to see a white figure at the top of the screen. “Is that a ghost?”

Yevgeny giggles, and holds the phone level with his face. “Just look.” He focuses the camera with his finger, and several filters appear.

“Look, Dad,” he says again, now laughing through his nose so he can open his mouth wide. “I’m a dog!”

“No, you’re a dork,” Mickey grins and shakes his head.

“Wait,” Yevgeny stills. He changes the filter and raises himself to his knees on the couch so that his face is level with his father’s. “Get in the- haha!” He laughs, because his face has switched with his father’s on the screen. Mickey raises his eyebrows- which are on Yev’s face- and they raise well above his hairline. Yevgeny shakily saves the photo and sits back against Mickey, still laughing.

“Come on, man, let’s take a normal picture, huh?” Mickey teases, poking at his side. Yevgeny reluctantly deletes the filters and holds his arms out in front of his chest, trying to get him and his father in the shot. He takes a very blurry photo, and Mickey’s mouth is wide in correction anyway.

“Here, let me try,” he laughs, and holds the phone out in front of them. “Funny face!” He shouts, and Yevgeny sticks his tongue up his nose. “Okay, okay, now, smile.”

Yevgeny curls up into his father’s armpit and lets his head rest on his chest, smiling as lazily as possible. Mickey nuzzles his head into his hair and smiles just as vaguely, and yet they both look happier than they ever have when Mickey takes the picture. He saves it.

 

Yevgeny’s just falling asleep against Mickey’s arm when his phone starts to ring. He scrambles for it immediately, having forgotten to turn the ringer off.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles, fumbling with the phone and accidentally answering the call without checking the caller ID.

“Shit. Hello?” He glances over at his son to make sure he’s still sleeping soundly when a quiet voice answers him.

“Hey,” Ian says. Shit. Ian. Fuck. “Is this a bad time?”

“Uh,” Mickey stutters. “I mean- I- yeah.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m- I’m sorry, I’ll just see you-”

“No, I mean, it’s okay,” Mickey elaborates quickly, closing his eyes at his patheticness. “Let me just- give me a minute.”

“Oh. Okay,” Ian says, and he’s sure he can hear him smile. Mickey adjusts Yevgeny on the couch so that he’s laying down, and he stumbles into the kitchen, trying to shake some feeling into his legs.

Mickey listens to the sound of Ian’s breathing for several short minutes as he grabs himself a beer and downs it before reaching for another one.

“Mickey?” Ian asks skeptically. Mickey grunts. “I’d kind of appreciate it if you could at least pretend like you don’t have to get drunk before you can even talk to me. I mean,” he adds. “If you don’t want to talk to me, fine, but-”

“Alright, alright,” Mickey concurs as he downs the last of his second beer. “Talk.”

“I…” Ian starts, voice caught. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to talk about, like, us. I’m not trying to push you, it’s just that, you know, work today was…”

“Pretty fucking weird,” Mickey burps. Ian chuckles.

“Yeah.”

“Ian, I can’t- I don’t know. We’re different people now. And you know how much you meant to me, you  _ knew _ -”

“Mickey-”

“I know. And I know you’re sorry. But it can’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” Ian insists.

“No, I mean us, Ian.”

His breath falters. “I-”

“I mean,” Mickey laughs loudly, tapping his beer can against the counter. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?”

“If you, Mickey, if you decide- really decide- that you’re done, then I’ll be done. But why not? Why can’t you? Is it because you’re afraid I’ll hurt you again?”

“No- I mean, a little. But no.”

“Then why can’t you?”

Mickey lets out an exasperated sigh and palms at his forehead. “It’s just- so much went down. So much. So much happened. And, I mean, so much of it was good- but it all distracted me. It all blew up in my face.”

“What, the fact that you were happy?”

“I  _ am _ happy, Ian.”

“You are?”

“Yeah- yeah!”

“As happy as you could be?”

Mickey lowers his palms to rub at his eyes. “You’re pushing me, Ian.”

He sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

Ian hesitates. “Okay.”

“I have more than myself to worry about this time. You know, if I get too invested, if I get too-”

“Mickey,” Ian says. “Hey. It’s okay. I don’t need an answer right now. I just want to make sure you know you’re allowed to be happy. It’s not all going to blow up in your face again. I can’t promise that we won’t break up, or that there won’t be a fallout- but it’s not going to get to be that ugly again. And your dad- he’s gone now. You know you’re safe, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m just saying,” Ian sighs, frustrated. “That you don’t have to be worried all the time about things that are out of your control. I know you’re comfortable, and I know you love your son- but I want you to be happy. And I’m not saying,” he clarifies, “I am not even trying to convince you to say yes to me. This is about you. I want you- I  _ need _ you- to be happy- even if it’s not with me.”

Mickey lets his fingers find his waist, lets his left arm hug it. He doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know- that sounded stupid. I just- you deserve to be happy. I know you have this voice in your head telling you that you don’t, that you can’t- but you can. Fuck,” he adds when Mickey still doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll see you Thursday.” And he hangs up.


	6. Two Steps Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels familiar and dangerous all at once, but Ian doesn’t stop to think about what this means, if it even means anything.

“Hey!” 

Ian jumps and turns around, almost smacking his face on his locker door. 

“Autumn? Jesus. Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. 

“Cause it's just so fun.” Autumn says with a sly grin. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to check out the place you left us for. Plus I wanted to meet Mickey.” She giggles and pokes Ian's arm. 

The redhead rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Wasn't my choice to leave. You know that. And I told you it's still complicated. Don't think now is the best time to meet him.” Ian shuts his locker and leans against it, crossing his arms. 

“Oh come on, Ian. Please? I'll be nice.” 

Ian starts to open his mouth to speak, but before he can, Mickey walks in, Mallory following behind him. 

Autumn raises her eyebrows playfully at Ian and mouths “He's cute.” 

“Shut up.” Ian whispers and nudges Autumn, it doesn't help calm her down though. 

Autumn had been blabbering on for a year about how Ian needed to find someone and was constantly setting him up on dates, despite his protest. So naturally she was thrilled when she heard about Mickey showing back up in his life. 

Mickey trudges to his locker slowly and slings his bag off his shoulder. 

“Hey.” Ian says to Mickey when he reaches his locker. 

“Hey.” Mickey replies, eyeing Autumn.  
“Who's this?” 

“Au-” Ian starts to say, but Autumn interrupts him. 

“Autumn.” She says quickly, “Former co-worker and Ian's best friend.” a smug grin forms across her lips as she bumps arms with the ginger. 

Mickey nods as a greeting. 

“Ian has told me so much about you. Heard you guys have a lot of history.” Autumn keeps her smile, but immediately notices the tension that quickly fills the air. 

“Has he now? Yeah. Yeah, we did a long time ago.” Mickey replies, folding his arms across his chest. 

Ian's eyes drift to Mickey's and they share this moment of connection. But it isn't a “soul to soul, get lost in your eyes” connection. It's pain. Pure and deep. They both hurt for a long time. Too long for the average break up. And if he was being honest, some days the pain came flooding back like it happened yesterday. 

Ian's head swam with self doubt because that look, oh god, that look. It was pain and love and memories and lost hope all tangled in one. And if looks could kill, then Mickey Milkovich was the epitome of it. 

“I'm Mallory.” the blonde smiles, reaching out her hand, breaking the awkward tension. 

Ian and Mickey quickly look away from each other as Mallory speaks. 

Autumn takes it and smiles back. “Nice to meet you, Mallory. I'm glad to see another woman firefighter. There's too much testosterone around here.” 

Mallory laughs. “Yeah. And not enough intelligence.” 

Autumn chuckles. “I like the way you think.”

“Likewise.” The blonde replies lightly. 

“Hey, so Ian and I are going out for drinks tomorrow night. You guys should come. I think it'd be fun! You know. Get our minds of off how stressful work can be.” Autumn requests.

Ian and Mickey's eyes both grow wide at the suggestion. 

“Um-” Mickey starts, biting his bottom lip. 

Ian raises an eyebrow at Mickey, awaiting his response.

“I'm not sure if it’s a good-” the brunette replies, but Mallory quickly interrupts him. 

“We’d love to!” She blurts out enthusiastically. 

“Great.” Mickey gives a fake smile. 

 

“I’m so excited!” Autumn squeals, jumping up and down quickly, pulling on Ian’s arm. 

“Ian, hurry up! You’re so slow. You practically tower over me and you can’t even keep up!” She half yells, skipping down the sidewalk now, stopping occasionally at a few light posts to twirl around them. 

“Are you excited? Is that even a question? How could you not be? It’s like a double date turned around. But like a friend date for me, and a date date for you!” She giggles.

“Ohhh It’s gonna be so fun! I’m gonna get so drunk and-” Autumn keeps rambling, but Ian is only half listening by now. 

One of the things Ian loves about Autumn is her bubbly and optimistic personality, but she has a tendency to hype things up way more than what was reality. Normally he liked it, but it isn’t helping this time. Because all he’s picturing is a disaster waiting to erupt. I mean the last conversation he and Mickey had didn't go anything like he planned and he ended up panicking big time. Fucking idiot he thought to himself.

His pace has slowed by now and he stops, leaning up against a nearby wall. Autumn is a few feet ahead, basically talking to herself now before she turns around, realizing the redhead had stopped. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, walking over to him, seeing the bleak expression on his face. 

“Jesus. What is it?” 

Ian is silent for a moment, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it up, taking a long drag. 

“I don't know. I just don't think this is a good idea. I mean we aren't even talking, Mickey and me. Why did I even agree to this? I should have stayed home.” He sighs, blowing smoke. 

“And get where? You can't just expect things to get better if you don't put any fucking effort in. From what I understand your relationship has always been complicated. So what? Maybe it always will be. But isn't it worth all the complications? I mean they way you look at each other. If a guy ever looked at me like that..jesus. You have something special, Ian, and you're getting a second chance at it. Sometimes you just have to live life by the moment and not give a fuck what happens next. Just enjoy it. Now come on, let's go.” She says, offering out her hand. 

“Alright, alright. Fuck it.” Ian says, taking it and walking alongside. 

It had been a long time since Ian walked into a club and thought about his past. He used to cringe even walking past one, but he didn't avoid clubs anymore. He had been running from his past for so long. Running and never looking back. But it always caught up. Until it finally hit him head on, and he couldn't run anymore. He had to face it, no matter how much it hurt. It was the only way to move on. So he created new memories to wash away the old. He controlled himself, made a promise to never get to that point again. But seeing Mickey standing there in a button up and jeans, of all outfits, with a drink in his hand sparked something in the redhead. And it all came flooding back. Him dancing. Him taking too many drugs to keep track. Him selling himself. Mickey was there for all of it. But Mickey was there. Mickey found him. Mickey carried him home. Mickey threatened every creep who even got close to him. Mickey loved him. And Ian fucked it all up. He wasn't going to let that happen again. 

Autumn links arms with Ian and gives his arm a light squeeze, smiling up at him reassuringly before walking over to the brunette and blonde. 

“Hey guys!” Mallory greets with a warm smile. 

“Hey” Autumn smiles back. 

“Ian” Mickey says almost nervously, but he forms a smile anyway. 

“Mick” Ian says with bright eyes. 

“So, should we get a table or something?” Mallory asks. 

“Yeah. Let's fuckin sit down.” Mickey replies immediately. 

Ian can tell Mickey's already downed a few drinks, probably because he feels stressed, but Ian doesn't mind. He likes drunk Mickey. 

They walk over to a table and sit down, Ian pulling his stool a little closer to Mickey's than he probably should. Fuck it though, it was loud in here anyway. Ian rolls his eyes and chuckles at Autumn who immediately starts ordering shots for the table. 

“So how's Yev doing?” Ian asks. 

“Good. He's real good. Kid blows my mind everyday. He's so smart.” Mickey replies. 

Ian loves the way his eyes light up when he talks about Yevgeny. It's something completely new to Ian. He was never like that when he talked about Yev before. 

“Yeah. I can tell. He seems like a bright kid.” 

“He is. He really is. I don't know where he gets it from though.” Mickey shrugs.

“You obviously.” Ian breathes a laugh. “Come on man, you could have aced your math classes in your sleep. You just never tried.” 

“Whatever. I don't want him turning out anything like me though.” Mickey says, picking up a shot of whiskey. 

“You say that like it's a bad thing. You seem to be doing fine to me.” Ian shrugs lightly. “Everyone has shit they have to deal with.”

“Yeah I guess so. You seem to be doing good too though.” the brunette leans in, talking lower. “Sorry I said that shit about...well you know..didn't mean it.” Mickey's eyes dart up to Ian's. 

“I know. It's okay.” The redhead gives an understanding smile. 

“Ohhh tequila! Shots shots shots! Go Mallory.” Autumn chants loudly. 

“Oh shit. Didn't know we were getting this fucked up tonight.” Mickey laughs, raising his eyebrows. 

“Shut the fuck up, Mickey. You're not the only one who knows how to party!” Mallory says, slamming down the shot glass. 

“Oh you're on.” the brunette laughs, taking two shots one after the other. 

“Shit. I wish I could get that fucked up again.” Ian says, shaking his head. 

Autumn slides a shot over, winking. Ian gives her a knowing look. 

“it's okay. One won't hurt. Just stick to beer the rest of the night. We’ll watch you.” She says, patting him on the back. 

“Alright, you're right. I know my limit.” The ginger says, clinking glasses with Autumn. 

After a while of goofing off and stupid conversations, Autumn spits out an idea. “Oh! Let's go dance! Come on, come on!” 

“Yes!” Mallory agrees. 

“Fuck no.” Mickey grunts. 

“Oh, come on Mick. It's fun.” Ian says, running a single finger up Mickey's thigh tracing circles under the table, but it's enough for Mickey's eyes to widen like he had just been assaulted or some shit. 

Mickey is following Ian anyway, despite his obvious protest. 

The two girls dance sloppily side by side, laughing and holding onto each other for support. Ian, however, is dancing like he’s the only person in the room, and not even for attention. He loves the feeling of getting lost in the music. 

Mickey is standing with his hands shoved in his pockets, admiring the view. Ian turns and locks eyes with Mickey, raising his eyebrows and licking his lips seductively. Mickey just smirks and rolls his eyes, but Ian knows better, he knows Mickey loves it. The redhead quickly closes the gap between them, pulling the brunette by his shirt until their bodies are firmly pressed together, and their faces an inch away. Ian feels Mickey's hot breath on his skin and he wonders how it's even possible to love every single thing about someone so much, that even their breath makes his stomach turn flips. 

Ian turns around and starts grinding against Mickey, moving up and down, and rolling his hips with the beat of the song. Mickey doesn't do much, but Ian doesn't care. He's relishing the feeling of Mickey's perfect body.  
“Aye, let's go outside, it's too loud in here.” Mickey says into Ian's ear. 

The redhead nods. 

“We’re going outside for a smoke.” Ian turns to Autumn. 

“Whatever.” Autumn waves them off as she continues to dance with Mallory. 

Mickey starts heading through the crowd, weaving between bodies, Ian following close behind. 

They are nearing the exit when Mickey suddenly grabs Ian's wrist, and makes a sharp turn, opening the bathroom door and dragging the redhead inside. 

He opens a stall, and pulls Ian behind him, slamming the stall door shut as he pushes Ian against it. Mickey leans in, but stops right before he reaches Ian’s lips. Ian always loved these moments, especially with Mickey. That second right before anything happens and it's just anticipation and sexual tension. Ian's quick to close the gap though, clashing their lips together recklessly. Mickey presses his body firmly against Ian’s, running frantic hands through fire red hair. 

It feels familiar and dangerous all at once, but Ian doesn’t stop to think about what this means, if it even means anything. He doesn’t think about the fact that Mickey is drunk and horny. He doesn’t care how this will affect them tomorrow or the next day. He’ll enjoy whatever Mickey is willing to give him. 

He bites gently at Mickey’s bottom lip, letting the brunette’s tongue enter his mouth. There was nothing in the world like kissing Mickey Milkovich, and Ian could do it forever. 

“Fuck. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted that sweet mouth of yours.” Ian breathes against Mickey’s lips. 

Mickey chuckles and trails his mouth down, sucking hard against Ian’s neck and sliding his hands under Ian’s shirt, tracing his fingers along accentuated muscles. The redhead sighs at Mickey’s touch, his body relaxing against the door. Mickey sinks to his knees and starts unbuckling Ian's belt, unzipping his jeans slowly. 

“Mickey..” Ian starts, his breath shaky. 

“Shh. Wanna taste that perfect fucking cock.” the brunette says, looking up into bright green eyes. 

He grabs Ian's waist and sucks a hickey right below his hip before pulling his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his erection. Mickey smirks before licking the head of Ian's cock slowly, teasing him. 

“Fuck.” Ian breathes, his eyes fluttering closed. 

Mickey licks down Ian's shaft, teasing him a little longer before swallowing him down. Ian gasps with pleasure, Mickey's mouth was so hot and wet and perfect. 

The brunette starts, slow at first, wrapping his hand around the rest of his length, pulling hard and slow. 

It’s been 5 fucking years and Mickey still knew how to drive Ian crazy. 

He picks up his pace, sucking up and down, drawing small noises out of the redhead. Ian runs his fingers through dark hair, guiding Mickey's head as he bucks his hips, sliding his cock further into Mickey's mouth, throat fucking him. 

“Shit. You take it so good, Mick.” Ian groans. “Just like that. So fuckin good.” He breathes out. 

“I'm close. I'm gonna come.” Ian whispers, gripping onto the stall door. 

Mickey slows, sucking hard as warm cum spills into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck.” Ian says, shuddering through his orgasm. Still breathing heavily, he quickly collects himself, pulling Mickey up, spinning him around and pinning him against the door. Mickey sucks in a sharp breath as Ian slides his hand down Mickey's jeans, rubbing his dick through his boxers. The redhead smiles at his reaction, staring into blown out pupils. 

He quickly unbuckles Mickey's belt and unzips his jeans, pulling out his member. He stokes Mickey's length a couple times before taking him in his mouth. Ian slides his teeth gently over the head of Mickey's cock and closes his lips around him, moving his head back and forth in quick bobs. 

“Jesus.” Mickey mumbles softly. 

Ian grabs Mickey's ass roughly, digging fingers into his skin as he quickens his pace, taking more of Mickey into his mouth. 

“Fuck. Yes!” Mickey blurts out as he finishes, he moans lightly as he spills into Ian's mouth. 

The redhead just smirks, looking up at Mickey. 

“Don't you dare say a word, firecrotch.” The brunette says, barely holding back a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter guys! I got caught up with work and also had really bad writers block, that being said I didn't want to force anything. I promise it won't take this long in the future. I hope you guys like it (: 
> 
> Comment what you think below.

**Author's Note:**

> xoxo comment below


End file.
